by David Adams
I returned the hug. “I promise I’ll come back,” I said again.
I even half meant it.
CHAPTER VII
I WALKED SOUTH OUT OF Ivywood, and when I was a mile or more beyond its limits, so far south that it was swallowed by trees, I removed the necklace and became myself again.
The world grew much larger and the sun so much brighter—so bright I had to shield my eyes, half blind. Being a kobold again felt at once very familiar, and yet, distant too. Memories of my brief stay in the village were strong, but as I marched away from Ivywood towards the entrance to the underworld, they became distant, fuzzy, unreal. As though I’d dreamed a most pleasant dream, and upon waking, had realised it all to be nonsense.
I folded my human-sized clothes to reduce their size. They seemed so big to me now; there was no way I could fit into them if I tried. They were heavy, too, like tent fabric—yet as a human I had carried them without concern.
Humans were strong. I bundled everything I had into the cloth, held it close to my chest, and steadied myself. A simple casting of a spell and wings of flame were mine. I lifted away from the frozen ground, towards the sky, and I made for the hole in the mountain the led into the dark.
I expected the feelings regarding Ivywood to abate—flying always cleared my head—but they didn’t. The humans within had shown me extraordinary kindness. I’d promised to return, and with every step I took away from the village, that promise echoed prominently in my mind.
I’d go back. To spy more, certainly, and maybe, just maybe, as myself. One day.
One day.
The memory of the barn kept those thoughts mostly in check. They had locked me up the moment they saw me. What would they do when they knew I’d snuck into their village in disguise?
What would they do when they remembered the child Khavi killed?
Questions for another day. I kept flying, my fiery wings beating unconsciously, keeping my head low to shield my eyes from the sun.
That was probably why I didn’t see the wizards above me until a tiny golden bead exploded off my left side and blasted me out of the air.
The explosion came with very little pressure, but it was enough to disrupt my flight. My wings flickered like a candle, and I fell. The sensation jolted me back to reality. With a panicked start, I brought myself under control and levelled out, wings beating frantically.
I was under attack.
Four human figures flew in the air above me, their black robes billowing in the wind. They were dark dots on the blue sky, attacking me with long-range spells. I squinted to see them.
Another tiny golden orb flew towards me, but this time I was ready for it. The fire washed over my body, but to me it was as a refreshing breeze. Then another, and another, as each in turn tried to blast me to ashes.
Fire? Against me? These wizards clearly did not know who they were dealing with.
My wings beat. I climbed, gaining altitude, drawing closer to them. Now I could see their faces—pale, ghostly skin barely clinging to bones. Exposed sections of yellow and dry, tattered strips of flesh hung off them. Their dark robes were stained with darker fluids, and even from the considerable distance, I could smell rot and death.
These were not living humans.
Skeletal hands began to cast once more, weaving complicated spells I did not recognise. Rays of energy leapt out at me, red and angry. Most missed, but one struck my forehead. Warm. Harmless.
I summoned my inner fire, drawing my hand back. A golden bead formed in my palm, and I threw it, guiding it less with the force of my arm and more with my magical sense. I waited until the tiny glowing dot sailed between the three flying figures, then I detonated it.
Flaming waves ignited the robes of my mysterious antagonists. The thin cloth caught quickly, orange flame crawling up the length of their bodies.
My spells were better.
The wind whipped around me, cold and strong. The heat in my heart kept the chill away. I summoned another ball of fire; it sailed towards my enemies, bursting in a bright light. And another. One of the wizards fell, dead skin burning as the lifeless corpse tumbled towards the frozen ground. As it drew close, it turned into dust, leaving only flapping cloth as the sole reminder it was ever there.
“Do you even know who you face?” I roared as fury filled me. How dare these robed assassins assault me out in the open. “Don’t you understand that you face your doom?”
They didn’t seem to. Wordlessly, the undead creatures began to cast again, so I threw another golden ball of light and blasted the three remaining monsters to dust and ashes.
Pathetic. Contremulus had sent four wizards against me, powerful spellcasters, and I had bested them all, even as they attacked from above, in the day with the advantage of surprise. I had not even been hurt.
I had not even been hurt.
Some part of me complained at that. Although fireballs were a common wizard spell for this kind of task, striking at a distant target with overwhelming force, but Contremulus knew me enough to know I would not burn.
Had he not sent them? Who else would dispatch four undead wizards to assault me in broad daylight?
I suddenly felt exposed, high in the sky and surrounded by the dust of my enemies. Perhaps this was some kind of vanguard…or a distraction.
Such thoughts consumed me as I flew towards the tunnel that led to the underworld. So distracted was I that I did not see Tyermumtican until I was almost at the cave’s entrance. A tiny black speck on the grey stone. I landed, dispelling the magic. My wings disappeared in a puff of smoke and ash.
“How did it go?” he asked, his white scales shining in the light of the setting sun, painting his body in a strange, eerie golden glow. “You’re back earlier than I anticipated.”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell him about the wizard attack. What purpose could it serve?
Withholding information from my friend was stupid, as were any excuses I could tell myself, that he would worry, or that any entirely selfless reason existed for me not to say anything.
Instead, I said nothing, because it simply did not matter. Tyermumtican was a mighty dragon, but I was mighty in my own way. I had beaten the undead assassins sent to kill me.
I didn’t need his help.
“I don’t recall saying how long I would be gone,” I said, and climbed up to the large maw that led into the underworld, eager to get away from the burning daylight.
Tyermumtican settled down by the cave entrance. “No, you did not.” He gestured for me to sit beside him. “We’re expecting company, by the way.”
I sat. “We are? Friends of yours?”
“Friends of yours,” said Tyermumtican, smiling knowingly.
A moment later, I heard footsteps down the tunnel, and Tzala stepped out of the gloom. I scampered towards her, scooping her up and giving a firm hug. She hugged back with her single arm.
“Good to see you,” she said, bumping her forehead to mine. “I hope you found your visit to the surface enlightening.”
“I did,” I said, and I meant it. I’d learnt little about their tactical situation, but I had learnt something much more important.
It wasn’t necessary to know their strengths and weaknesses. They were not our enemy. Contremulus was, Contremulus and his undead monstrosities.
“Good.” With a low sigh, Tzala sat down on the stones, and the three of us arranged ourselves into a circle.
“You mentioned friends,” I said to Tyermumtican. “Did you just mean Tzala?”
“Oh, no,” he said, as though remembering some forgotten detail. “Z should be along in a moment.”
I half lidded my eyes. “You know the doppelganger?”
“You know a doppelganger?” asked Tzala, maw falling open.
“Yes,” I said. “He was impersonating a villager. He read my mind, and apparently, found what was within too curious to resist. I wasn’t anticipating he would follow me out here.”
“That’s Z for you,” said Tye
rmumtican, stretching out lazily on the stone. “Always doing that which surprises you, which in turn, should not be surprising at all.”
“Rude,” came a kobold’s voice from down the mountain, echoing slightly as the sound bounced off the hard stones.
She was a stranger to me, blue scales, fading to a copperish green near her neck and head, but I saw something in her red eyes—something that told me, far more than Tyermumtican’s hints, that this was the same creature I’d met in the village.
“You’re late Z,” said Tyermumtican. “That’s rudeness.”
Z clambered up the rocks towards the tunnel’s entrance, grumbling loudly as she did so. She? He? Did doppelgangers care about such identifiers? “It’s ruder to point out another’s rudeness. I declare you the ruder party by a significant margin.”
“I declare that I don’t care what you declare.”
“Then we are at an impasse.” Z bowed to me, dipping her head low. “A pleasure to see you once again, Ren of Atikala. You look much as I imagined.” A reluctant grimace came over her face as her eyes flickered over my golden scales. “I see the story about Contremulus was woven from strands of the truth.”
I did not like this creature I’d barely met questioning my linage. “An accident of birth,” I said. “Nobody can control their parentage.”
Z slid into our circle, between Tyermumtican and me, and everyone shuffled around to give her room. “True for you, perhaps, but I can be anyone.”
It was difficult to object to her point. “Right,” I said to Tyermumtican, folding my hands in my lap. “What’s everyone doing here?”
“We all want to hear about your time in the village,” said Tzala, her tail tapping gently against the ground. “About what you’ve learned.”
For a moment I couldn’t put it into words. I had been the one who had singled out the village, and if I changed my mind about attacking it, I might look weak.
Then again, apart from Z—who had expressed a distinct apathy towards me and my endeavors—I didn’t care about looking weak to any of them. Tzala was my mother, and Tyermumtican had seen me at my worst. So I decided to tell the truth.
“I met many people,” I said. “More than I can remember the names to. They treated me well, and I feel that moving against them is in error. We should focus our efforts elsewhere.”
From Tyermumtican and Tzala there was considerable relief.
“However I did learn,” I continued, “that Contremulus is moving towards Ivywood. His men will be establishing an outpost there, to what end I am not certain, but it is clear to me that this will bode ill for us if it should come to pass.” I let that sink in. “I also learned that the villagers are aware of our movements. At least, on some level.”
Tzala frowned. “This is worrying news, but hardly unexpected. Contremulus must have a vague impression of your location by now; he should suspect you have gone to Ssarsdale. It makes sense that he will either attempt to verify this suspicion, or move on the city just to be certain.”
“Perhaps,” said Tzala, glancing at Tyermumtican for support, “some further observation of Ivywood is warranted. If only to determine when Contremulus’s scouts arrive.”
Tyermumtican considered this. “It does seem prudent. Moving an army cannot be done in a day; scouts will arrive first, then the rest of the army. We would have plenty of warning.”
The humans had said as much. Tyermumtican’s ability to predict their behaviours was useful. “I’m more than happy to go back,” I said, “in a few days. I have affairs to manage with the council, and they will want my report.”
“That would be wise,” said Tzala.
It was good to have Tzala finally say something nice about me. I glanced to Z. “You haven’t said much.”
“I have nothing to contribute.” She raised her hands. “I’m here only to satisfy my curiosity. I want no part in your wars, Ren, but I would like to remain good friends with whoever is the victor.”
My tail twitched slightly. “How very pragmatic of you.”
“Thank you,” she said, completely without irony.
“So,” I said, clicking my tongue in annoyance, “did you have anything to actually contribute, or is this all just some game to you?”
Z stretched her back in a way that was strange and unnatural to me, arching her neck so far back it should have been painful but didn’t seem to be. “I don’t know why you’re even bothering with the surface, to be honest. You have a large underground fortress that could, conceivably, withstand the assault of a dragon. It would take away his primary advantage: flight. Yes, there are powerful magics to quake the stones, and even worse, but it could be no worse than facing him in the open plain…and with the defenders advantage.”
“And that’s all very well if we win,” said Tyermumtican, “but by fighting at our doorstep, we are risking everything if we lose.”
“Perhaps a measured approach,” said Tzala. “We could fight his armies on the surface, and lure Contremulus himself underground…”
Too many conflicting suggestions coming too quickly. It made my head hurt. “I’m the only real kobold here,” I said. “So quiet, all of you. We’re going to do what I say.”
“You did ask for our suggestions,” said Tyermumtican.
That was true.
“For now,” I said, “I think the best course of action would be to bide our time. Continue observation of the humans. Continue building weapons and training our soldiers. I will give my report to the council, and we will decide on a course of action from there.”
Everyone nodded their approval, so without further ado, the four of us gathered up our things and made our way into the lightless tunnels of the underworld.
The walk back to Ssarsdale was uneventful. It possessed a kind of hollow emptiness to it; the journey was dead time. I had no productive thoughts, performed no action save putting one foot in front of the other.
And I felt angry for some reason I could not adequately explain.
By the time the gates of Ssarsdale reappeared, the anger had faded. The guards ran out to meet me, as they typically did, their faces painted with joy.
Yet I did not feel happy. I said polite words, and I reassured them that everything was okay, and then I checked the human-sized clothes I carried into the armoury. The process attracted many stares, but as the leader, none questioned me. Then I made my way into the city. Towards the central spire that was my home.
I should see Dorydd. She had mentioned travelling to the dwarves, visiting them…we would need to make those plans. I felt vaguely tired of it, as though this distant offer grew less attractive.
Rather than seek out my friend, I instead climbed the spiral staircase of the central spire. Ushug was waiting outside my quarters.
“Good evening, Supreme Leader,” she said, her upper lip curling back. “How did your visit to the surface go? When can we strike?”
If I didn’t make this clear, my day would be spent repeating the same words. “Please inform the rest of the council that I have visited the human settlement, and I have determined through exhaustive firsthand investigation that they did not launch the sortie against our home.”
Ushug’s teeth shone in the glowbug light, as though she might bite me. “Am I your messenger now? Your Mistress of Logistics, demoted to a courier?”
“We each serve in our own capacity,” I said, her insubordination grating on my nerves. “I don’t want to be bothered with every little detail.”
Ushug inclined her head, the tip of her tail flicking across the stone. “Unchecked human aggression, during the prelude to open war, is a trivial detail to Ren of Atikala?”
I disliked her calling me that. Ren of Atikala. Reminding me I was one of the few remaining scions of a ruin. “What do you want me to do?” I snapped. “Fly through the tunnels, and burn them all to ashes myself? Must I fight this war on my own while you and the council sit and debate every little matter until the end of time? You’re the Mistress of Logistics. Thi
s is above your station. I told you who it wasn’t, and that’s all I know. Complain to the council.”
“I give help,” said Ilothika from above me.
I nearly leapt out of my scales. The assassin was squatting, upside down, on the ceiling; she looked like some kind of bat. Faint smoke fell from her anklets, forming grasping hands that held her to the stone.
Ilothika was a ghost. I hadn’t seen her at all. Was she sending me some kind of message? I could kill you at any time. My knife would find you, and you would not even have time to shit before you died. I have ways and means of being anywhere.
Far too slowly my composure returned. “Help?” I squinted up at the ceiling. “You mean to send the Darkguard to punish the humans.”
“What Darkguard for?” asked Ilothika. She slowly walked across the ceiling, her smoke-feet holding her firm, and then down the wall to face me. “Why feed us? Why arm us? If not use, Darkguard pointless.” Her cold, emotionless stare met mine. “Use us. We spill blood.”
I was almost tempted. For some reason I could not adequately identify, despite all I had learned, for a moment I nearly agreed.
But my rational side took over. We couldn’t. The humans of Ivywood had not attacked us, and we had no proof who was truly involved. We didn’t know enough, and the humans were strong. We risked everything for a few lousy warriors.
“Go into the tunnels where the patrol was ambushed,” I said, speaking carefully and deliberately. “Find out where the humans came from. Track them. Hunt them. Do not, under any circumstances, tip our hand. We cannot be seen to be moving against them.” To make sure that she obeyed me, I mollified her. “Yet.”
Ilothika dipped her head. “I go myself. Not fail.”
“See to it,” I said, but one more directive filled my head. “If you find the living dead, destroy them. Otherwise, remember…no killing.”
Ilothika slid into the staircase, past me, down and away. Ushug, after a moment’s consideration, followed her.
My quarters beckoned, but the mental image of Ilothika appearing on the ceiling, blackened knife in hand, haunted me. If the Darkguard had wanted to send some kind of signal with her parlour tricks, it had worked.